Cancer patients without air conditioning in the oncology unit.

A fan. If necessary, even the folder containing the medical reports. As long as it can be waved. Because here, the aim is also to intercept the weak currents generated by the Africo, the hot wind that moves the air outside, where the temperature is well above 30 degrees Celsius. This is the fifth floor of the Businco Hospital in Cagliari. And here too, there are dozens and dozens of cancer patients waiting their turn, for an appointment or a chemotherapy session. They know when they arrive, often early in the morning; they can't predict what time they'll leave. And right here, in the Brotzu Oncology unit, it's almost impossible to breathe. Because the air conditioning is broken. Not just today: on June 18, four days ago, 18 Businco medical directors sent a letter to all the recipients who should have taken action to resolve the problem, such as the Arnas health management and the hospital management. Results? None, so far.

The doctors wrote that "from June to today, the air conditioning systems in the outpatient clinics in Wings A and B and the waiting room on the fifth floor of our hospital have not been functioning." This is an unsustainable situation: "The internal temperatures recorded during working hours far exceed the safety and comfort levels" required by the consolidated law on workplace safety. And they report repercussions on the "dignity of patients, particularly the elderly and frail, while waiting for and during visits."

And it's quite common for there to be vulnerable patients on the fifth floor of the oncology hospital: if you get up there, you often have a tumor.

Some of them are addressing the press: "I'm a cancer patient," says a woman who has since gone down to the lobby, where the air is cooler. "Don't I deserve at least a little respect?" Someone else posts messages on social media: "News from the Businco waiting room," writes someone who was there, "overflowing with patients and the ventilation system isn't working. We're going to die like rats."

To understand, you just have to go. And this is how they describe it. Patients stand composed, lined up. An elderly woman wearing a light vest fans herself with a fan, her gaze fixed on the void, which only awakens when she is called. In front, between her niece (the chaperone) and her aunt (the patient), it is the younger one waving her fan: "I just got here, but it's hard to breathe."

The hackneyed solution? Like in the old days: open the windows. A draft is created. Which isn't healthy for those suffering from conditions treated on that floor and who have been sweating up to that point. And they continue to do so. Because the effect is like a convection oven. Doctors and ward staff also pass through it. They suffer too. They write, report, and urge the hospital's management to intervene.

They sent the letter. Maybe it was read in some office where the air conditioning is on. But no, the solution apparently can't be found.